Fredulous

Saturday, 30 May 2015

She didn’t seem to have any particular aversion to me.
In fact, based on her body language, I think she might have been enjoying my
company. She touched my arm a lot and laughed at things I said. She held eye
contact to let me know she was interested. She was tall.

Eventually the conversation started to stagnate. We
ran out of things to say to each other. That happens. Not a big deal. I left
her for a while because YouTube videos I have watched on the topic of getting
women to like me have said that this is a good idea. Instead of dragging out a
point in conversation where things become less interesting, you leave her with
a positive impression of yourself that stays on her mind for the rest of the
night. And she will wait for you to come back. If you’re some sort of super
stud, you can try this out on multiple women and by the end of the night have a
whole collection of them longing for your dry wit and masculine musk.

In the meantime one of my friends provided me with a
concise list of reasons for which 9/11 was orchestrated by the US government. I
tried to keep up and occasionally interjected with my own made up conspiracy theories.
Another one of my friends asked me for my opinion of his hair. It had great
volume, I told him. And we agreed that modern-day club music is a shit cycle of
thirty seconds of a song people recognise followed by a drop followed by a couple
of minutes of generic beats for people who lack the confidence to soberly
interact with one another.

Thursday, 21 May 2015

Between the ages of 5 and 8 there was a girl in my
class who was autistic.

There was a divide amongst the boys and girls in my
school. Created more by teachers than anything. They’d make the boys sit with
girls because that seemed like a good way of keeping them from talking. It
didn’t work at all but they did succeed in creating an unhealthy perception for
us from a young age that boys and girls are behaviourly different and that
girls are responsible and well behaved while boys are bad and annoying.

It was kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The boys
would be loud and obnoxious because they were expected to be. Including me
sometimes. But I don’t think it was something I was very comfortable with and I
quickly grew out of it.

The other girls collectively treated the autistic girl
like a baby, which was necessary. But the boys tormented her. Entirely because
it was expected of them.

I don’t know if it was because of me being the only
boy that didn’t make fun of her or what, but she eventually developed what she
thought was a crush on me. Given that we were both between the ages of 6 and 7
when this started it’s likely that her feelings were some sort of psychological
construct based on something she saw on tv.

She used to randomly apologise to me for things.
Dramatic outbursts pleading for forgiveness. I don’t think she ever told me
what she was apologising for. The girls in the class would angrily ask me what
was going on and what I’d said to her that made her upset and I had no idea so
I’d just get in trouble for no reason.

I hate to perpetuate stereotypes, but in Ireland a lot
of kids are forced into Irish dancing by their mothers. I was one of those
unfortunate kids but probably solely because my aunt was the teacher. I can’t
remember exactly how many boys there were apart from me, but I do remember that
one week the autistic girl from my class came.

We were learning a new dance and for this we required
a partner. I was allocated the autistic girl. I was apprehensive because of all
the trouble she got me into in school and I had no idea how she was going to
react to me but I didn’t really show this. She complimented my shirt. It was
navy and had a bear on it. It was my favourite.

After the first few runs through the dance I noticed
all the adults in the room laughing at me. I wasn’t embarrassed because I was 7.
It took me a few seconds but I realised that autistic girl was trying to kiss
me. She didn’t succeed before she was pulled away from me.

I can’t remember who exactly pulled her away from me
but I think it was her mother.

Her mother was such a milf. I didn’t know that then.
But I vividly remember now how she looked.

The reason I bring this whole story up is because
recently that girl who had the crush (I just referred to her as that because "autistic girl" seems harsher than I intended) added me on Facebook. I’m not sure how she found me. But I think
it might be because I looked her up recently and searched through her profile
for pictures of her mother.

And that’s the moral of the story. Be careful who you
stalk online because the algorithms used to draw people together on social
networking sites might just give the game away. The more you stalk somebody the
greater the potential for you being recommended as a friend. If somebody you
hardly know keeps getting recommended to you they’re probably regularly reading
your posts and you should feel flattered, but you probably won’t unless they
are hot.

Saturday, 31 January 2015

Exactly a week later, things seemed like they were no
different. I continued not to speak to her. I worked on problems independently.
She worked with my ultimate Chinese wingman-turned-cock block. He figured
everything out for her in thirty minutes and left her by herself.

I couldn’t concentrate while she sat there, looking at
her phone. Probably reading profound Facebook messages from her hot German
boyfriend, that she probably had. He had a strong jawline and vascular forearms,
in my imagination. Shouldn’t have convinced myself that guy from her picture
was her brother. Fuck.

I finished ten minutes before the end. I noticed her
begin to put her things away. She had her coat on and remained beside her desk
waiting as I eventually rose to my feet. She looked at me and I gazed back and
tried not to look away.

She was waiting for me.

We had another conversation as we walked together. She
didn’t go the wrong way but probably would have if she hadn’t before. I could
tell by how she looked at me. Like I wasn’t going to attack her. Or like she
didn’t think I was only making conversation with her so I could manipulate her
into a position where I could take advantage of her. The best way a woman can
look at a man.

We talked about our cultural differences, which
neither of us gave a shit about, as we tried to get close enough to discuss
something meaningful. She and I stood in front of that building for nearly an
hour.

It’s been coming for a while. She got bowel cancer a couple
of years ago and it initiated a series of tragic events in my life including a
childhood friend’s death, a neighbour’s death and my grandfather who wasn’t in
a relationship with this grandmother’s death. My Playstation broke as well,
which really hurt. She made it though. They cut parts of her out and she’s been
kind of alive since. Her health has been deteriorating. Patching her up like
they did enabled her to live only for visitors that came sometimes. I didn’t
visit often enough, because she was kind of a bitch. But I feel sort of guilty
anyway.

Saturday, 3 January 2015

Which is weird because I do genuinely go out of my way not
to be a dick. And I thought that would be enough to prevent anybody disliking
me for any particular reason. But it’s not.

The person in question is that tall woman who likes art that
I used to sob to thoughts of never being with, even though we did casually hook
up a couple of times. The reason I think she hates me is that she seems physically incapable of maintaining close proximity with me. When
we interact in public (the only place we ever interact) she uses an excuse to
get the hell away from me.

Usually the excuses are incredibly believable and arouse no
suspicion from me at all. Like something along the lines of “I’d love to chat but… I have to get back to my dog”. Or “Sorry, I can't stay and talk. I have a doctor's appointment. I have much reason to believe I have an STD."

The saddest thing about it all is how long it took me to realise that she wants me to die and never go anywhere near her again. It all came together on New Year's Eve.